Madness Rising
by ForTalosandtheEmpire
Summary: When a mysterious Gate opens a year after the Crisis ends, Mara Fides is drawn into a world of madness and forced to face an impossible challenge: work for a god she hates to save his realm from its imminent destruction. As blackmail and betrayal force her hand at every turn, saving something she despises will require Mara to make the ultimate sacrifice. Sequel to Honor Bound.
1. Chapter 1: Threshold

**Rating: Rated T for violence, dark themes, and some language.**

**Disclaimer: Oblivion is the property of Bethesda Game Studios.**

**To better understand the events of this story, please read _Honor Bound_ first.**

* * *

"Open your eyes, darling."

"No."

Martin's arms tightened around me and I struggled to escape. I wasn't falling for it again.

"Mara, please."

I shook my head and began my all-too-familiar mantra. "You're not here. I'm just dreaming. You're not here…"

"But I _am _here."

"You're lying. You're not real."

"You were just dreaming before. It was a nightmare, Mara. Everything's fine. We're both safe." I wanted so badly to believe his words as he gently stroked my hair. Could it be possible? Could I have just dreamed…?

I opened my eyes and quickly shut them again to block the flow of angry tears. There was nothing there but my empty room. Another dream of him, that's all it had been. Gods, when would it end? It was a year after his death, a year of having the same dream night after night. Why couldn't I just move on? _Why couldn't I just let him go?_

When I thought I was past breaking down, for the moment at least, I climbed out of my bed. Outside, the chapel bells rang. I glanced out the window. Anvil's morning bustle had already begun. I could hear their faint voices through the glass panes.

Benirus manor was where I'd ended up after leaving the Imperial City. It was a nice enough house once I got rid of the resident lich, if a bit grand for my tastes, and its dark past kept the locals from nosing about too much. Neither Ocato nor the Blades had found my hiding place, and I preferred to keep it that way. It was a bit cold, the shadows were long, and the silence was all but deafening… but what could I do? I couldn't go back. Not after everything that happened.

I walked over to my dresser and pulled on my clothes slowly and deliberately, taking deep steadying breaths. Every morning I woke up, it got a little bit easier. I wasn't sure if it was because I was recovering, or if it was because I was getting more and more numb. I was worried it was the latter. Grabbing the leather tie off the dresser from its place next to my set of elven knives, I pulled my hair back into its usual ponytail.

I trudged out of the house, the soles of my boots thumping against the cobbles of the street, and walked toward the smith. I was running low on arrows, and that was _never_ a risk I was willing to take. Passerby gave me odd looks, but I ignored them and kept walking. People noticed me. They always did. The red hair and scowl tended to do that. It had been a hazard to my occupation once, years ago, and seemed to be becoming one again. If they talked and the Elder Council finally tracked me down… My wounds were finally starting to heal. I didn't want to have them reopened.

Stepping up onto the porch, I pushed open the door. The room inside held its usual gloom. The glint of metal winked out of the shadows from the weapons and armor that hung on racks around the room. The counter itself was crammed with knives, gauntlets, and an iron helmet resting on a stand. There was only one other patron inside, talking to the smith. The latter caught my eye and nodded. He knew what I was there for. I proceeded to the arrows, checking each to make sure it was satisfactory.

I was sighting down the shaft of the arrow I held when I heard the patron whisper, "Did you hear about that Gate near Bravil?"

I hesitated, lowering the arrow ever so slightly. Gate. _Gate?_ Resisting every urge to whirl around and demand to know everything, I pretended to go back to checking the arrow. I was supposed to be lying low. Better to wait and hope I'd find out what it was about.

"I haven't heard much, but they're saying it's like no other Oblivion Gate anyone's ever seen. Nothing's coming out."

"How is it even possible?"

How indeed. My hands shook. Martin's sacrifice was supposed to have _stopped_ that from happening ever again. Had it failed? Or was it something different? There was only one way to find out.

I walked to the counter and tossed down some Drakes for the arrows. The smith seemed surprised by the force, but still nodded to me before I walked out the door. I didn't stop. There wasn't any time left to waste. If there was a Gate open, I had to stop it before anyone got hurt.

* * *

The guards of Bravil should have been less shocked than they were when I showed up outside the city. Yes, I'd been gone for a year following the Crisis and left next to no trace, but the Gate took precedence over hiding.

It was out some distance into Niben Bay on a small island that had mysteriously appeared with it. Residents of the city along with ships coming in were giving it a wide berth. As I'd heard before, no one had seen any signs of daedra coming from it in the weeks it had been opened, and no one had gone in save for a handful of foolhardy adventurers.

And what was I?

I dragged the small boat I'd rowed out in onto the bank and looked around at the tiny island. Moss covered _everything_. As I trudged up a path cut into the rock, I passed clusters of violently purple mushrooms. Green vines that occasionally pulsed red lined the trail, along with trees with red-gold leaves, even though it was spring. Twisted stone pillars dotted the island, and as the wind rushed through them, they made high, eerie whistling sounds that made me shiver.

At the center of the island, on top of the hill, was a massive stone sculpture of three bearded male faces. The one at the center was laughing, and its mouth was filled with a swirling purple vortex of light. I paused, confused. Not only had the sky not changed to its cracked, red state, but it also wasn't the Gate I'd been expecting. There was no fire, no thunder. Just the hum of the portal.

A Khajiit cowered nearby, mumbling and wringing her hands. Standing beside her was a man in Bravil Guard uniform.

Before I could speak, he shook his head and pointed to the Gate. "Can't talk now. That door has been making noises again. No telling what's coming out."

The Gate let out a horrible _shriek, _and a Dunmer stumbled out. He was dressed in little more than tattered rags, and his hair was tangled wildly. He stumbled and fell to his knees.

"It's not right. Madness! Why? _Why?" _He shrieked."Everything is wrong! It can't be done!"

The guard approached him, and the mer drew a rusty knife.

"Stay away from me! I won't go back! You can't make me go back! I… I'll kill you all! You're all going to die!"

The Khajiit scrambled for cover, but it wasn't much of a fight. The guard cut the crazed mer down before he could do any more than make a fumbled swipe at him with his knife. Then he sighed and cleaned off his sword.

"I'd stay back from that door if I were you," he told me, shaking his head. "Nothing that's gone in has come out right."

I glanced up at it, and back down at the corpse.

"I'll keep that in mind. Where did this thing come from?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to. Those who've gone in have come back out… wrong. I'm just here to warn folks to stay away."

It was odd, to say the least. "What happened to them, exactly?"

The Khajiit came crawling back at that moment, her amber eyes flitting around nervously.

"I've been bad," she muttered. "I'll be punished. They'll all be punished…"

The guard gestured to her. "Look for yourself! Their brains are addled. Got no sense! Perfectly normal people went in there, and _this_ is what's come out."

I nodded and inched a little closer to it, trying to study it. It was like no Gate I'd ever seen. But that didn't mean anything. People were being hurt, and that was good enough for me.

I'd barely taken more than a few steps toward it when a voice roared from the portal, "_Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy! Useless mortal meat! Walkin' bag of dung!_"

"What in Talos's name…" I gasped.

"_… __A nice effort, though. A shame he's dead. These things happen,_" the voice continued. "_Bring me a champion! Rend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion to wade through the entrails of my enemies! Really, do come in. It's lovely in the Isles right now. Perfect time for a visit._"

I narrowed my eyes and rolled up my sleeves. Whichever Daedra it was, they were going to regret opening that Gate when I was done.

"I'm going in," I told the guard.

He just sighed. "It's you're funeral. I'll be here to clean up the mess when you come back."

I nodded and strode toward the Gate, unsure of what I'd find when I came out on the other side.

As I stepped through, there was a flash of light and a loud shrieking sound. Whether of laughter or pain, I wasn't sure. When my eyes cleared I blinked in confusion. My memories of Oblivion were red and hot and bloody and dry... which was _not _what was in front of me. I was standing in a small, dark room. The gray stone walls gave off a feeling of claustrophobia. A desk sat in the middle of the room. On it was a book and a small metal box with a wand that ticked back and forth between designs of a happy and an angry face.

A small, weedy man dressed in black and red sat behind the desk, watching me haughtily.

"Please, sit." He said, gesturing to the seat across from him.

"I demand that you close this gate immediately. You have no right-"

"I'd prefer if we kept the bloodshed to a minimum. So please, just have a seat."

Scowling, I threw myself down into the chair and crossed my arms. The man leaned forward and placed his fingertips together.

"You are obviously here about the door. Good."

"No, it's not good," I snapped. "Which daedric realm does this lead to, exactly?"

"You approach the Shivering Isles. Through the door behind me lies the realm of Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, Lord of the Never-There."

Great.

"Then who are you?"

"I am Haskill, Chamberlain to the Lord Sheogorath."

I drummed my fingers against my arm and nodded behind me to the humming portal. "Why did that Gate appear in Cyrodiil?"

"Because my Lord wills it to be so. It poses no danger to Mundus; no compact has been violated. It is a doorway, an invitation. Perhaps you will accept it for what it is."

"That's not likely."

Haskill shrugged. "Very well. Then you will not hear what my Lord has to say."

"… What do you mean?" I asked.

"Only that He knows of you, Mara Fides. He was convinced that you would come."

I gaped. How… _why…_

"What does he _want_ from me?"

"My Lord seeks a mortal to act as His Champion. Perhaps it is this. He only told me that he wishes to speak with you. As for His intent… to attempt to fathom it is a foolish endeavor. His will is his own; his reality follows suit."

I sighed and sunk lower in my chair. From fighting daedra to talking to them? What was this world coming to?

"What happens now?"

"You do as you will. You may leave the way you entered. Your life will be none the worse for your time spent here. Or, you may continue onward, through the door behind me."

The door in question was solid metal. At the top was an embossed design of a screaming face. It wasn't exactly promising.

"And if I do go through?"

"Who is to say? There are always choices to be made. The Realm of Madness is no different in that regard. Your choices are your own. Enter or do not, but make your decision. I have other duties to which I must attend."

"Fine. I'll do it."

"Good. My Lord will be most pleased." He got to his feet and nodded to me. "You'll want to pass through the Gates of Madness. Oh, and mind the Gatekeeper. He dislikes strangers to the realm. Enjoy your stay."

When he opened the door, there was nothing but a black void beyond the threshold. He quickly stepped through and was gone. The door slammed shut behind him.

Before I could get up, the walls shook and rumbled. My gaze snapped around, and I reached for my bow. The walls suddenly exploded into a cloud of thousands upon thousands of black, fluttering shapes. _Butterflies_. As they flew away, their wings brightened into vibrant jewel-like colors.

I was now standing outside in the night. The open sky above me was filled with red stars and far away spirals of golden light. There were no moons. Shaking my head, I drew my bow and headed down the path ahead. It was lined with broken columns and passed beneath the roots of massive, twisted mushroom trees. At least that much was familiar.

I jumped back as a blue-green wisp streaked past. The sound it made was high and clear as a bell. Not watching where I was going, I stumbled into a puddle in the middle of the path. I cursed and hit the stones in frustration. There was barely enough light to see when I _wasn't _underneath the canopy of roots. Why, by the Divines, did I think it was a good idea to go through there at _night?_

There was a snorting, grumbling sound. Then the sound of a sword being drawn and a roar. I jumped to my feet, drawing an arrow and firing an arrow blindly into the dark. A shriek tore from the shadows, then a thud and a splash. Water lapped over the toes of my boots. When another wisp, an orange one, rushed past, I saw a froglike creature lying dead at my feet. It held a sword that was almost a cleaver in one hand and a crude shield in the other. Its eyes stared up at me, dull and white.

I lowered my bow. This wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

When the sky began to lighten, it illuminated the tops of what looked roofs in the distance. I squinted at them. Yes, roofs. There was a town ahead. It wasn't exactly what I'd expected from a daedric realm.

Built over rocky outcroppings and patchy areas of marshland, the town looked ancient. The roofs were missing slates, the walls were dirty. Bridges and ladders linked them all together in the areas where the ground turned into swamp. But it still looked very… human. Not daedric. Odd.

"I tried to warn them."

I stopped. There were two shadowed figures ahead, standing under a building that arched over the street. The speaker was a Redguard in wildly purple hose holding a torch.

"They should have listened to me," he continued, shaking his head.

His companion, a dunmer whose hair was all done back in anxiously knotted braids, groaned loudly. "We'll be swimming in blood soon. Yuck."

As I cautiously approached, I saw the torchlight illuminate the Redguard's wicked sneer. "Let's go watch."

"Just as long as we don't catch any of their diseases. Adventurers always get strange diseases…"

"Come on, it'll be fun watching them get knocked around up there."

As they dashed off, I heard the Dunmer snap, "Just don't get any blood on me."

After a moment of hesitation, I followed. People from outside were getting themselves hurt. That couldn't be good.

The pair raced out of the small town and up a hill lined with crumbling stone steps. At the top, I could see the shadowy form of a giant wall. Then I heard the sounds of clashing metal and screams of pain. Through the gloom, I caught a glimpse of a hulking figure tearing an armored figure in half.

That was when the morning light finally filled the area, illuminating the thing as it roared in triumph. I stepped back, gasping in horror.


	2. Chapter 2: Fringe

**Disclaimer: Oblivion is the property of Bethesda Game Studios.**

* * *

The thing was over ten feet tall and encased in iron bands. It swung its massive arms, one of which was no more than an enormous sword, and took out another adventurer with a swipe that sent the man flying. Deep, horrible scars in twisted designs covered its fleshy body. I could see in places on its chest and limb another kind of scar, the kind that looked like it had been stitched together.

And instead of a face, there was no more than blank skin stretched over its grimacing skull.

"Dead," the Redguard said, clapping slowly at the violent display and shaking his head. "I warned them, didn't I?"

His Dunmer companion wrinkled his nose. "Yuck. Look at all the blood and gore. I'm getting out of here."

He walked back down the stairs, stepping nimbly aside as one of the combatants came pelting down past him to escape the creature.

I was too shocked to do anything but watch as it tore the last man in half. Then it swung its head around and roared as it rushed towards me. I hastily stumbled back down a few of the steps. It slammed to a halt at the top of the stairs and loomed over me. I'd have sworn it was staring at me, if it had had any eyes. Letting out an irritated grunt, it shook its head and lumbered back to its position before the dual gates set into the wall.

I heard a bark of laughter and glanced around to see the Redguard smirking at me.

"I'm Shelden," he said, extending one of his dark hands to me. When I glared at him, he quickly withdrew it. "I've been here the longest. That's why I'm the mayor of Passwall. That, and I'm the best at being in charge. Welcome to my town!"

The hulking monster was a _great_ welcome.

"What is that thing?" I said, nodding toward it.

"The Gatekeeper. As you'd expect from the name, he guards the Gates of Madness. Don't get too close to him. He'll kill you, and it will leave a mess. Jayred Ice-Veins wants to kill the Gatekeeper. Sounds like suicide to me."

Looking back at the monster, I could certainly see why. "Why on earth would anyone want to go near that thing, let alone try to kill it?"

"They say the keys to the Gates are sewn up in the Gatekeeper's body. Basically, that means you're not getting in. Not without taking him down first."

So that was what I had to do to get to Sheogorath. Fine. It wasn't the biggest monster I'd ever faced.

"Where is this man?"

Shelden's eyes widened. "So you want to die, too? Be my guest, but I'm not cleaning up after you. Jayred lives at the edge of town, in that direction." He pointed out over the buildings towards the swamp. I nodded sharply, and marched back down the stairs.

* * *

As Shelden had said, Jayred Ice-Veins's house was nearly beyond the town's border. It was a small house, taller than it was wide, and built on a massive root that jutted out over the swamp. I walked up the stairs and carefully knocked on the door, trying not to get splinters from the heavily-cracked wood. I was certain the only things holding it together were the iron bars nailed into it, but even then it was only just.

"It's unlocked," a deep voice called from somewhere within.

I pushed open the door, wincing slightly at the loud creaking noise it made, and stepped inside.

The first thing I saw was the bones. Everywhere there were bones of every size: hanging from the walls, piled in the corners, resting on the table and the shelves. The empty sockets where their eyes should have been seemed to follow me as I walked past.

The voice I'd heard belonged to a burly Nord dressed all in fur. Long braids hung limply around his face, and he stared at me with pale green eyes with a gaze that felt like it was boring into me.

"Are you Jayred Ice-Veins?" I asked.

He nodded slowly, unblinking. It made my skin crawl.

"Do you ever wonder why things look better without their skin on?" He asked after a short silence. "For instance, you can only really see the bones when you take them out. You can hear them better that way, too."

I cringed. The place was getting worse the longer I stayed.

"I came because I heard you want the Gatekeeper dead."

"I _need _him dead!" He barked. "His bones are calling to me. And you want him dead, too?"

"Yes."

"If you're any good with a lockpick, we can help each other out. We can get into the Gardens of Flesh and Bone."

The name did not instill much confidence. "Why would we need to do that?"

"They say the Gatekeeper's magic. I don't believe in magic, but I _do _believe in bones. And the best way to kill something is with the bones of its own. I've seen the bones of a dead Gatekeeper in the courtyard of the Gardens. The door's locked though. You'll pick the lock, and I'll collect the bones. Then I'll make some arrows and we'll kill the Gatekeeper. Sound good?"

Arrows I could handle. Picking locks I could handle. I nodded.

"You open the door. I'll kill things. Let's go!"

He led me out of the house, back through town, and up a hill along the wall opposite the way I'd gone earlier. At the end was a gate set into the stone. It was rusty and covered with spiderwebs. Beyond it I could see a large, abandoned courtyard lined with pillars and sculptures of twisted, snarling creatures I assumed were daedra. There was also a massive skeleton lying at the very center.

"Hurry! Pick that lock open. I can hear them in there!"

"All right, all right. Hold on." I knelt down in front of the lock. It wasn't difficult. Clearly no one in the town had _any _kind of skill… that, or any interest. I didn't blame them. The place gave me chills.

The lock _clicked_ and I had to shove the gates to get them open. The loud creaking sound of the metal echoed around the courtyard. When it faded out, it was replaced with a clattering, shrieking sound. Piles of bones lying here and there around the space were rising into horrible, shambling creatures. Jayred shot one down, and it exploded into thousands of fragments of bone. I dodged the flying pieces as I drew my own bow. I fired at another of the creatures and it shattered as well. Soon we were surrounded by nothing more than a number of tiny, sharp white chips.

Jayred clomped over to the Gatekeeper skeleton and knelt down beside it.

"Here we are. From these bones I can make some arrows."

"And when will they be ready?" I asked, crossing my arms.

The Nord tilted his head to the side, as if thinking hard. Or listening to something. "Find me in a few hours. We'll kill the Gatekeeper."

I nodded sharply and left the Gardens, walking back to settle on top of one of the rock outcroppings overlooking Passwall. Pulling my knees up into my chest, I watched the town's residents go about their daily business with a wary gaze. The Deadlands had given off the feeling of danger and death no matter where you went. The Shivering Isles didn't have that. It just felt… wrong. It felt as if something, or someone, was watching me at all times. I hated that. At least Dagon's realm had the decency to let you _know _it would kill you. It was like the Isles were waiting for something with baited breath. The moment to strike? Probably.

There was no sun, just the strange sky above me getting brighter all the time. I'd kept my eye on Jayred's house, waiting for him to make an appearance. Hours passed before I saw him step out the door. I climbed down from my perch and picked my way through the rocks and the swamp to reach him.

He nodded when I approached and said, tossing me a bundle, "The arrows are ready. Here are some for you, and I'll keep some. Let's go kill the Gatekeeper. We might die, but there's worse things."

I followed him back to the Gates. The Gatekeeper was waiting between the two doorways. It didn't move as we crept forward, and I prayed that we wouldn't be noticed.

Pointing to its other side, I indicated that we should split up and flank the creature. Jayred nodded and he slunk around one side while I went on the other. I was careful to hang back, hugging the edges of the yard and staying as far out of reach of the thing as I possibly could. I glanced over to see how my fellow hunter was doing, and my pulse quickened sharply when I noticed how much closer he was to it than I. He was too far away from me to give any kind of warning.

That was when the Gatekeeper's head turned sharply toward him. It roared, the sound muffled by the skin covering its mouth, and grabbed Ice-Veins. I heard a loud, sickening _crack_ as it squeezed the man in its massive fist. It let his body fall, blood dripping onto the gray stone that paved the area. I kept as still as I could, barely breathing. Reaching over my shoulder, I carefully slid one of the bone arrows from my quiver and nocked it on my bowstring. The monster turned even at that slight sound. It charged at me, and I instinctively fired and jumped aside to avoid being snatched up like Jayred had.

There was a horrible, twisted gurgling sound and a _boom _as it fell back, hitting the ground. It was dead, my arrow lodged underneath its chin.

Walking over to the massive corpse, I drew my knife with a sigh. Shelden had said the keys were sewn _into _the body, hadn't he? Wrinkling my nose and trying not to gag at the foul smell, I cut along one of the stitches and peeled open the Gatekeeper's chest. Sure enough, there were two keys sewn in, side-by-side. One was embossed with faint pink designs in twisting patterns, while the other was edged in places with rough black spikes. I cut them out and got to my feet.

"So, you've managed to kill the Gatekeeper. Pity," a bored voice said from behind me.

I turned, clutching the keys in my fist, to see Haskill watching me with a detached look. How he'd managed to sneak up behind me, I had no idea.

"Well," he continued, "you'll now be able to enter the Realm proper. You'll notice there are two doors. One leads to the land of Mania, the other to Dementia. Enter through either one. The lands are quite distinct, but both are Sheogorath's domain."

"What _is _the difference, exactly?"

He pointed to the door on the left. "The lands of Mania are bright, vibrant, and full of color. You'll find its inhabitants reflect the land itself. Take care, though. While the citizens and creatures of Mania are colorful, they can often be quite deadly."

"And Dementia?" I asked, nodding toward the other door.

"The lands of Dementia reflect the darker side of its residents." He paused and looked me over critically. "I'm sure they'll welcome one such as you with open arms."

I glanced back at the two doorways. Well, neither one sounded particularly appealing to me at all. I would still have to decide on one in the end, however. The question was which one?

"You'll want to seek out the Lord Sheogorath," Haskill told me. "He does indeed have plans for you. Try not to disappoint him." With a nod, he vanished in a thick cloud of black and purple smoke. I coughed and wrinkled my nose, waving my hand to disperse the vapors.

Now, there was a choice to be made. I stared at the two keys still clenched in my fist. In the end, was it really a difficult choice? Always fight the enemy you can see. Carefully picking my way around the weathered bones of the Gatekeeper's old victims, I trudged up the stairs toward the door leading to Dementia.

The door itself was an impossibly black thing set deep into the wall. I fitted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. There was another short tunnel on the other side. Steeling myself, I took a few steps forward. Behind me the door slammed shut, making me flinch and look back warily. The sound echoed through the tunnel and faded slowly to silence.

At the end of the tunnel was a path lined with rocky outcroppings that were overwhelmed with tangled, sickly-green vines. On either side were tall, twisted trees. In the distance I heard strange shrieking and roaring sounds. I shivered and quietly drew an arrow. _That_ was what I was expecting from a realm of Oblivion. As I slowly made my way down the road rain began to fall. My hood kept the droplets of water away from my face and my eyes clear.

For a long time, there was nothing more than those distant roars and the sound of the rain falling around me.

That was when I heard a growl, slow and deep. I stopped and slowly looked up at the outcropping to my left. At first I saw nothing. Then one of the trees moved, crawling forward with gnarled, branched hands. It turned its head, opening one horribly humanoid eye in what I assumed must be its head to stare at me. With the slow, deliberate movements of a stalking predator, it climbed down the rocky face. I drew back an arrow and fired at it. The arrow stuck, but the monster didn't seem to notice. It just kept coming. I took a step back, preparing to run. How fast could it move? Would I be able to get somewhere more protected before it overtook me? It reached the bottom. Rearing up, it let out a horrifying shriek that cut through the air.

An arrow buried itself deep in the creature's eye, an arrow that was decidedly _not _one of mine. The tree monster screamed and clawed futilely at it in an attempt to remove it. There was the sound of footsteps running up the path toward us, and three women appeared, drawing inky black swords. All three of them were dressed in impractical-looking black and iridescent-green armor, cut in strange places to reveal their vibrant purple skin. They cut mercilessly into the creature, slashing deep cuts in its bark. Sap oozed heavily from the gashes. Then one of the women swung her sword at its neck, taking its head off with a dull _thunk._

The body had barely crumpled to the ground when she turned, her vivid silvery-blue eyes staring at me from beneath the sharp outline of her helmet.

"Madgod's blessings," she said.

I was still too wary to lower my bow. Regardless of whether or not they had just saved my life, I was still in a Daedric Realm, and I wasn't about to take any risks I could avoid.

"Who are you?"

Her face remained impassive as she told me, "We are the Mazken. Our duty is to ensure the demented remain orderly and respectful of our Lord Sheogorath. We have been tasked with escorting you safely to New Sheoth. Our Lord has been expecting you, Mara Fides."

I slowly lowered my bow. So they presented themselves as allies. That was good, for the moment.

"Fine. Take me to him."

* * *

New Sheoth was built on the top of a large hill, its walls rising in an imposing way at the top of the cliff face. There were roaring waterfalls to the right of the path as we walked up to the city gate that sent cold spray into the air. I shivered and drew my cloak tighter around myself.

The guards who had escorted me through Dementia left at the city gate and were replaced by a new entourage. I didn't like it, but there was nothing I could do to refuse as they led me through the gate and into the city.

The first thing I saw was an enormous statue of a man sitting on a throne wrapped in hissing snakes. Green-flamed torches encircled it, casting unsettling light and shadows on the stone. As we passed it by and entered the city proper, I took in my surroundings with a wary gaze.

The buildings were all tall and elegant, with arched stained-glass windows. But the whole place was horribly derelict. The glass panes were streaked with dark grime. Most of the roofs were collapsing in places and moss grew in thick patches on the walls. Massive roots broke through the pavement and curled through some of the walls. The streets were filled with sewage, and boards had been put in place over the patches so that you didn't step in it. I covered my nose with my hand to try to block out the awful smell that nearly made my stomach turn. As we walked past, I thought I saw some rotting bones in the gutter that looked suspiciously humanoid. I was glad when the Mazken hurried me through and up a set of stairs that led up wall.

This new part of the city was far different. It was a garden leading to an enormous palace made of cold, white marble. It had vaulting arches, tall windows, and iron spikes set on its roofs. The pathway leading to the front door was lined with torches bearing red flames on the left and green flames on the right. In places the lawn was torn up with clusters of sharp gray crystals. I could hear them humming softly as we passed. Odd.

These guards too left me at the door to the palace, and I entered alone.

Inside was a long hall, a red and green carpet running down the center of the room and surrounded on either side by burbling fountains. At the other end of the hall was a throne set into the base of a tree that was covered in glowing blue and gold mushrooms. A man sat in the throne. His hair and carefully trimmed beard were silver-white, his suit purple. He stood as I approached and clapped slowly, the sound echoing into the ceiling in an almost mocking way. Haskill was standing to the side, looking impassive as usual.

"Well look who's here!" The man in the suit said, laughing. "I'm so happy; I could just tear out your intestines and strangle you with them! I suppose an introduction is in order." He made a little bow. "I'm Sheogorath, Prince of Madness. And other things. You've probably figured that out by now. Let's hope so. Or else we're in real trouble… and _out _come the intestines."

* * *

**I apologize for the long wait. Follows, favorites, and reviews are always appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3: Madness

**Disclaimer: Oblivion is the property of Bethesda Game Studios.**

* * *

I frowned, tensing, but Sheogorath just waved it off.

"But, perhaps now's not the time," he said. "You've made it this far. Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve you well. Or look lovely on your corpse."

What he handed me was a small amulet. One side was gold and depicted half of a grinning face. The other was silver and the face was snarling.

"I didn't come here for… gifts," I told him, my frown deepening. "What do you want from me?"

"I've been waiting for you, or someone like you, or someone other than you for some time. Everyone saw how you took Dagon down a few pegs. Really quite impressive. I'd say he won't try any more schemes for a few millennia, at least. In any case, I need a Champion, and _you've _got the job. Time to save the Realm! Rescue the damsel! Slay the Beast!" His eyes, bright gold with cat-like slits for pupils, flashed as he added, "Or die trying. Your help is required."

"Forget it," I snapped. "I won't help you."

His eyes narrowed and he asked, "Is that so?"

"Yes. I don't owe you _anything._"

"Oh, but I think you'll find it's not quite that simple, my dear. You see, I have something in my possession that I think you'll find… most interesting."

"And what would that be?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

The corner of his mouth curled into a sneer. "No, no, no. I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Leave if you wish, but I would stop in Fellmore on your way out of the Isles if I were you."

I gave the Daedric Prince back his pendant with a glare, turned away, and marched right out of the palace.

* * *

I'd intended to leave, to just go back through the town of Passwall and out the portal that would return me to Nirn. But, damn it, what Sheogorath had said twisted itself so tightly around my mind that I couldn't help but wonder what he'd meant. Something I'd find interesting. What in Talos's name did he have hidden away in that town that would interest _me?_

My curiosity was too much for me to resist in the end. When I reached the road that led to the village he had mentioned, winding through those gnarled and shadowed roots, I took it against my better judgment.

Fellmore was built at the edge of a swamp. It was a tiny village, just a handful of old houses with small gardens beside them and nothing more. The clearing it was nestled into was surrounded by giant mushrooms that towered over the buildings. Just seeing them gave me an unsettling sense of familiarity. Even though I hadn't seen Vvardenfell in four years, it was still so much like going back home. The feeling sent shivers down my spine.

That was when I saw it.

_It_ was a small house, with a simple thatched roof and pale plastered walls. The doors and shutters were painted a faded shade of brownish-green. I _knew_ that house. I didn't realize that I'd stopped walking until suddenly I was running toward it. My heart pounded so hard that I vaguely wondered if it would burst. My head spun. How was that even possible? It was a trick. A dream. Anything. _It couldn't be real._

Grabbing the worn iron handle, I shoved the door open. I barely saw the frayed yellow and red rug that sat in the middle of the room or the knotted designs on the beams. All I could focus on was the woman by the fire. Long dark brown hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders and down her back. She brushed off her olive-toned hands on her light blue skirt, humming lightly to herself. I slumped heavily against the door, too shocked to even breathe.

She turned quickly at the sound and her gray eyes fixed on mine. That was when I knew that it was no trick. That gaze was too real, too familiar. Never mind that she was no different than she had been the last time I'd seen her, and that had been nearly nine years earlier.

But, unlike last time, the corners of her gentle mouth turned up in a quiet sort of smile.

"Hello," she said in her soft, smooth voice, "can I help you?"

"Don't… don't you recognize me?"

Her dark brows lowered in confusion. Then she shook her head. I let go of the door and slowly walked toward her. Surely she should still know it was me. Surely she wouldn't forget…

I stopped in front of her. Why was she like this? The last time I'd seen my mother, she'd barely had the will to stand, let alone _smile_. Something was very, very wrong.

"Ma, it's me. It's Mara."

There was flicker of something in her eyes, maybe recognition, which quickly vanished. She shook her head again.

"I don't-"

"Mara, your _daughter!_" I shouted at her as anguished tears stung my cheeks. "The girl who ran away from home when you needed her most! Me! _How could you forget me?_"

She blinked several times, startled, and the flicker of recognition, yes _recognition,_ returned. That time it stayed, settling into her eyes as a look of horror dawned on her face.

"_Mara?_" She gasped. "Oh, my baby. My little girl."

I let out a choked sob and stumbled forward a few steps to hug her. Every inch of my body was shaking as I leaned against her. She stroked my hair and I buried my face in her shoulder.

It wasn't long before she hurriedly pulled away, holding onto my shoulders and looking right into my eyes. A profound and terrible kind of fear was etched into her features and she looked far older in that moment than I'd ever seen her to be before.

"You have to get out of this place," she said in a rush. "It will _kill_ you."

"I can't just leave you here!"

"It's too late for me. He has me and he'll never let me go. Please, sweetheart, you have to leave while you still can. Promise me you will."

I shook my head frantically. "Ma, I can't!"

"_Promise me, Mara!_" She cried.

I gasped and recoiled, shocked at the force of the desperation in her words. Her hands abruptly loosened on my shoulders, falling back to rest by her side. Her expression faded. She blinked and confusion appeared in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?" She asked in a level tone.

I staggered backward, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. She was gone again. Just like that.

I turned and ran out of the house, away from the woman who was my mother. But my hand still clenched tightly onto the door handle when I slammed it behind me, the cold metal cutting into my palm. I couldn't just _leave_ her there. Not again. Not when she clearly still needed me so badly. I leaned my head back against the door and tried to blink away the tears that welled up once more in my eyes. It didn't work. I sank to the ground and clutched my face in my hands.

That was what he wanted. That was what he'd had planned all along. He knew I wouldn't be able to just abandon her to her fate, not even to escape the Isles. Damn him. _Damn him!_

* * *

Sheogorath was wearing a thoroughly satisfied smirk when I returned to the palace. He sat on his throne, leaning forward against a black and gold cane as he watched me approach.

"You found the distressing damsel, I see," he said in a smug voice.

I stood before the throne, glaring at him. My hands clenched into fists and I snarled, "Let my mother go."

"That's not how this game works," he said, making an impatient sound. "You give me what I want, and I'll give you want you want. Fair's fair."

When he held out that gods-forsaken pendant again, I hesitated for a moment before grabbing it and putting it around my neck. Just wearing it gave me a sickening feeling, but I managed to resist the urge to rip it off and throw it as far away as I could. Barely.

"How did you even get her?" I asked, my words hissing out through clenched teeth.

"She was already enough in my domain that it was quite easy. You, my dear Fides, were the subject of interest for some time before good old Dagon decided to make his move. What you would do was never quite clear. However, I thought it best to have something of yours to bargain with in case I had need of you. And here we are."

I forced myself to take a deep breath.

"Now, onto business." He stood and started pacing around the throne room as he spoke. "A change is coming. Everything changes. Even Daedric Princes. _Especially _Daedric Princes. Daedra are the embodiment of change. Change and permanency. I'm no different, except in the ways that I am."

He banged his cane against the floor and I jumped.

"The Greymarch is coming," he said, "and you're going to stop it."

"Well, I can't stop it if I don't know what 'it' is," I snapped.

He waved it off. "The details aren't important. At least not right now. Eternity is on a rather right deadline. We'll get back to that later."

"So what now?"

"Now? You run an errand for me. An important one. Of course, anything I tell you to do is important. My realm, my rules." He drummed his fingers against his cane and went on, saying, "You're going to Xedilian, one of my favorite spots in the Isles. It's a little place I use to take care of… _unwanted_ visitors. And some are more unwanted than others. The Gatekeeper takes care of most of the unwanted, but he's dead. We'll have to remedy that soon, as well."

I didn't particularly like the sound of that.

"Anyway, there are those that have other ways into my Realm, and they're on the move. We don't want them here. Trust me. So you're going to get Xedilian up and running. Here's a little book to tell you how, and the Attenuator of Judgment. You'll need that too." He shoved a book and a strange, pronged, metal instrument into my hands. "Of course, you can always get more details from Haskill. He's a detail-oriented type of person. A big help. And a snappy dresser! Now, get going before I change my mind. Or my mind changes me."


End file.
